(JANUARY 1831.) Scene,-The Snuggery. Time,-Seven o'clock. NORTH, SHEPHERD, O'BRONTE. Shepherd. The wee bit cosy octagon Snuggery metamorphosed, I declare, intil a perfeck paragon o' a leebrary, wi' glitterin brass-wired rosewood shelves, through whilk the bricht-bun' byuckies glint splendid as sunbeams, yet saftened and subdued somehow or ither, doun to a specie o' moonlicht, sic as lonely shepherd on the hill lifts up his hauns to admire alang the fringed edges o' a fleecy mass o' clouds, when the orb is just upon the verra comin out again intil the blue, and the entire nicht beautifies itsel up, like a leevin being, to re-hail the stainless apparition! North. Homeric ! Shepherd. Ay, Homer was a shepherd like mysel, I'se warrant him, afore he lost his een, in lieu o' whilk, Apollo, the Great Shepherd o' a' the Flocks o' the Sky, gied him-and wasna't a glorious recompense, sir ?—for a' the rest o' his days, the gift o' immortal sang. North. 'Tis fitted up, James, after a fancy-plan of our poor, dear, old, facete, feeling, ingenious, and most original friendJohnny Ballantyne. Shepherd. Johnny Ballantyne ! North. Methinks I see him-his slight slender figure restless with a spirit that knew no rest-his face so suddenly changeful in its expression from what a stranger might have thought habitual gravity, into what his friends knew to be native there-glee irrepressible and irresistible-the very madness of mirth, James, in which the fine ether of animal spirits seemed to respire the breath of genius, and to shed through 94 JOHNNY BALLANTYNE. the room, or the open air, a contagion of cheerfulness, against which no heart was proof, however sullen, and no features could stand, however grim-but still all the company, Canters and Covenanters inclusive, relaxed and thawed into murmurs of merriment, even as the strong spring sunshine sends a-singing the bleak frozen moor-streams, till all the wilderness is alive with music. Shepherd. He was indeed a canty' cretur-a delichtfu' companion. North. I hear his voice this moment within my imagination, as distinct as if it were speaking. 'Twas exceedingly pleasant. Shepherd. It was that. Verra like Sandy's-only a hue merrier, and a few beats in the minute faster. Oh, sir! hoo he would hae enjoyed the Noctes, and hoo the Noctes would hae enjoyed him! North. In the midst of our merriment, James, often has that thought come over me like a cloud. Shepherd. What'n a lauch! North. Soul-and-heart-felt! Shepherd. Mony a strange story fell down stane-dead when his tongue grew mute. Thousands o' curious, na, unaccountable anecdotes, ceased to be the day his een were closed; for he telt them, sir, as ye ken, wi' his een mair than his lips; and his verra hauns spak, when he snapped his forefinger and his thoom, or wi' the haill five spread out — and he had what I ca' an elegant haun o' fine fingers, as maist wutty men hae - manually illustrated his subjeck, till the words gaed aff, murmuring like bees frae the tips, and then Johnny was quate2 again for a minute or sae, till some ither freak o' a fancy came athwart his genie, and instantly loupt intil look, lauch, or speech--or rather a' the three thegither in ane, while Sir Walter himsel keckled on his chair, and leanin wi' thae extraordinar chowks o' his, that aften seem to me amaist as expressive as his pile o' forehead, hoo would he fix the grey illumination o' his een on his freen Johnny, and ca' him by that familiar name, and by the sympathy o' that maist capawcious o' a' sowls, set him clean mad-richt-doun wudd a'thegither-till really, sir, he got untholeably divertin, and folk compleened o' pains in their sides, and sat wi' the tears rinnin doun their cheeks, praying him for gudeness to haud his tongue, for that 1 Canty-cheerful. 2 Quate-quiet. UNSUBSTANTIALS, SUBSTANTIALS. 95 gin he didna, somebody or ither would be fa'in doun in a fit, and be carried out dead.1 North. A truce, my dear James, to all such dreams. Yet pleasant, though mournful to the soul, is the memory of joys that are past! And never, methinks, do we feel the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, than when dimly passeth before our eyes, along the mirror of imagination,-for I agree with thee, thou sagest of Shepherds, that when the heart is finely touched by some emotion from the past, the mirror of imagination and of memory is one and the same, held up as if in moonlight by the hands of Love or Friendship,— never feel we the truth of that beautiful sentiment more tenderly, I repeat, James, than when we suddenly re-behold there the image the shadow of some face that when alive wore a smile of perpetual sunshine--somewhat saddened now, though cheerful still, in the momentary vision—and then, as we continue to gaze upon it, undergoing sad obscuration, and soon disappearing in total eclipse. (Enter MR AMBROSE, MONS. CADET, KING PEPIN, SIR DAVID GAM, TAPPYTOORIE, and the PECH, with Tea, Coffee, Toast, Muffins, &c.) Shepherd. When a body has had an early denner, what a glorious meal's the FOWRE-OORS!" Hooly-hooly, lads. Ay— that's richt, Tappy-just set doun the muffins there close to ma nieve; oh! but they seem sappy! Sir Dawvit, be onet or be ye knicht, you've a fine ee for the balancin o' a table, or ye had never clashed doun on that spat thae creeshy crampets. Pippin, you're a dextrous cretur, wi' your ashets o' wat 1 For further particulars respecting Johnny Ballantyne, see Lockhart's Life of Scott. He died in 1824. "As Sir Walter and I," says Mr Lockhart, "stood together while they were smoothing the turf over John Ballantyne's remains in the Canongate Churchyard, the heavens, which had been dark and slaty, cleared up suddenly, and the midsummer sun shone forth in his strength. Scott, ever awake to the 'skiey influences,' cast his eye along the overhanging line of the Calton Hill, with its gleaming walls and towers, and then turning to the grave again, 'I feel,' he whispered in my ear, 'I feel as if there would be less sunshine for me from this day forth.' "As we walked homewards, Scott told me, among other favourable traits of his friend, one little story which I must not omit. He remarked one day to a poor student of divinity attending his auction, that he looked as if he were in bad health. The young man assented with a sigh. 'Come,' said Ballantyne, 'I think I ken the secret of a sort of draft that would relieve you-particularly' -he added, handing him a cheque for £5 or £10,- particularly, my dear, if taken on an empty stomach.'"-Life of Scott, vol. vi. p. 329, second edition. 2 The four-hours-tea and more solid accompaniments. 96 BEAR-PAWS FROM SCANDINAVIA. and dry toast. And oh! my man Pechy! but you've a stout back and a strong arm to deposit wi' sic an air o' majesty that twa-quartern loaf fresh frae the baker's, and steamin as sweet's a bank o' violets after a shower.-Mr Awmrose, ye needna bile ony mair eggs-for though they're no very big anes, yet whatever the size, sax is ma number-thae bit chickens maun hae belanged to a late cleckin-But whare's the Roond? Ay-ay -Prince o' Picardy! I see ye bearin him frae the bit sideboardie.-Noo attend to Mr North, Mr Awmrose, and dinna mind me―tak tent o' Mr North, sir—and see that he wants for naething-for I discern by the glegness o' the een o' him, that he's yaup-yaup-yaup-and 's sharpenin his teeth wi' the fork, till you hear them raspin like a mower whettin his scythe. North. Ambrose, bring yon. Ambrose. Here they are, sir. (Placing them before MR HOGG.) Shepherd. Angels and ministers o' grace defend us !—what the deevil's thae ? North. What think ye, James? Shepherd. Hauns! Human hauns! Preserved human hauns! Pickled human hauns! The preserved and pickled human hauns o' a Christian! North. Well-what although? Shepherd. Weel! what altho'? Are they a present frae Dr Knox, or his freen Hare?1 Aiblins the verra hauns o' Burke himsel! What throttlers! North. Why, they are throttlers, James belonged in life to any of the gang. but they never Shepherd. That's a great relief-But excuse me, sir, for haudin ma nose-for I fear they're stinkin. North. Sweet, I assure you, James, as the downy fist of a virgin, yet warm from her own bosom. Bear-paws from Scandinavia―a Christmas-present from my intrepid friend Lloyd, now Schall-king of the Frozen Forests. Shepherd. Let's pree them. [The SHEPHERD takes one Paw, and NORTH another, and they both begin to masticate. 1 See ante, vol. ii. p. 193. 2 The author of Field Sports in the North of Europe, reviewed by Professor Wilson in Blackwood's Magazine, vol. xxvii. SILENCE IN THE SNUGGERY. 97 Shepherd. Mine's is pickit as clean's an ivory kame for the tap-knot o' a bit bonny lassie. Noo for the palms. North. The mustard ? North. The mustard? Shepherd. Eh? Oh! but the palms is prime. The ile o' palms! Far better nor the ignorant warld suspecks. Nae wunner the beasts sooks them in their wunter-caves. North. Try your paw with chicken, James. Shepherd. I'm doin sae, sir. Frae this time, henceforrit and for evermair, hoo wersh the race o' hams! What's pigface to bear-paw! North. Hyperion to a Satyr. Shepherd. Say Satyr to Hyperion, sir. Mine's anatomeezed -and lo! the skeleton! O the wonnerfu' warks o' natur! North. There! Shepherd. What'n a what! I'm hungrier than if I had ate a haill solan-guse. What'n a what! North. Let us now set in to serious eating, James. [There is silence in the Snuggery from half-past seven till half-past eight; or, rather, a sound like the whutter of wild-fowl on the feed along a mud-bank, by night, in Poole Harbour, at low-water, as described by Colonel Hawker. North. James? Shepherd. What's your wull, sir? North. A caulker? Shepherd. Wi' a' my heart and sowl. Here's to Mr Lloyd's health and happiness-and when he's dune huggin the bears, may he get a wife! North. Amen! Shepherd. Noo, sir, let's hae some leeterary conversation. North. I was just going to propose it, James. Suppose we have a little poetry. Shepherd. What a cauld squash o' poetry's this we've had blawn intil our faces o' late, like sae mony blashy shoo'rs o' sleet? But Stoddart3 has genius. 1 Oil of palms-a play on Professor Wilson's Isle of Palms. 2 What-whet. 3 Thomas Tod Stoddart is the author of The Angler's Companion to the Rivers and Lochs of Scotland, a standard work on fishing in all its departments: he has also published some admirable angling songs. VOL. III. G |